


Mine Be Thy Love

by HixyStix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, At least for now?, College Rivalries, Dubious Ethics, Fluff, Human Zeb, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sorry all the sex is off-screen, possibly tooth-rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: Alexsandr Kallus is a British Lit professor on loan to Alliance University from the much more prestigious Imperial State University. He’s good at what he does and he knows it; the fact that none of the Alliance professors are friendly is their problem, not his.At least, it isn’t his problem until he’s forced to interact with one Garazeb Orrelios.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 41
Kudos: 154
Collections: Kalluzeb Summer Exchange





	Mine Be Thy Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipsfrecklesandhorseface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsfrecklesandhorseface/gifts).



Autumn was brisk and cool in this part of the state, the frosty breeze wafting across the lake and onto campus. Every time Alexsandr Kallus had to cross the Grove – a thick copse of trees splitting the campus in two – he hunched over, attempting to wrap his coat tightly enough to keep out the little snarls of wind.

It didn’t work, of course. Even with gloves and a thick black jacket, Kallus felt the cold bite to the bone. How did the regular faculty and students of Alliance University stand it? It was merely late October; what were things going to be like come actual winter?

AU was nothing like his university, Imperial State. There, they saw snow but not an unreasonable amount. There, the different departments had their own buildings, not one central building with everyone lumped together. There, the parking lots were close to the buildings, not _full on the other side of campus_.

To be fair, Imperial State also brought in a lot more money. Things stayed in repair. Students were held to certain levels of decorum and dress. Kallus fit in quite well there, he thought, and his British literature classes were packed each semester, as was the theatre every time he directed the semester’s play. It was a point of pride for him that his modern adaptations of Shakespeare were a money-maker for the institution.

Kallus liked ISU. He felt he belonged at ISU. So why had he accepted a visiting fellowship position at ragtag little Alliance University?

They needed someone just for a year, the Dean of Humanities had promised. They needed _him_ , specifically: the former drama coordinator – some woman named Chava that seemed to be part and parcel of the school’s foundation – had finally and unexpectedly retired, leaving the program broke and in danger of dying.

So there Kallus was, jogging through the trees to get to the Classroom Building, hoping no one saw him looking undignified, especially since his shoes were not made for running. He slipped inside and stood there for a second, relishing the blast of warm air that came from the heater hung over the door.

He was being watched, he noticed. One of the philosophy professors – something Jarrus, if he remembered correctly – was talking to Professor Syndulla of the physics department, and both had their eye on him.

Theirs weren’t pleasant glares – they’d been resentful the entire semester so far – but Kallus expected nothing less. ISU was a longstanding rival of Alliance: in sports, in funding, in attracting the best students. To the AU professors, he imagined, he represented all the things their school lacked.

His students were a different matter. From the moment he’d first walked in and slammed his briefcase on the desk, he’d commanded their attention. And, to their seeming surprise, their enjoyment as well. Kallus was _good_ at making difficult literature relatable to college-age youths and he knew it, too. He’d known it the first moment he got behind a desk as a young TA and discovered his passion for teaching.

Kallus took a few moments to grab some lukewarm coffee from the third floor professor’s lounge, pointedly ignoring Orrelios, the large history professor, joking around with that art doctoral candidate, Sabine Wren. Kallus, while not an art connoisseur, could still appreciate her talent, though she also fell on the side of disliking him, much like Jarrus and Syndulla.

He refused to let the other professor’s cool demeanors affect his attitude, however. Kallus was here to do a job and he was doing it quite well. He just had to make it through another semester and a half and he’d be free to go back to ISU, where he might finally get his tenure approved.

Kallus pulled the door to his classroom open, propping it up with a foot until he could slide in.

Instantly, the room quieted. Kallus smiled to himself. He liked that his appearance stilled the room and made them pay attention.

Setting his things on the desk, he took off his coat and gloves before reaching in his briefcase to pull out a folder of papers.

“Good morning to most of you. I’ve graded your papers on Sonnet 20 and some of you obviously read Wikipedia instead of the sonnet.” He frowned and wandered through the desks, handing back papers. “I’m going to ask those of you who actually read the text to share your insights, so be prepared.”

Murmurs lit up the room as the students were either relieved or disappointed by their grades. By the time Kallus made it back to the front of the room, there were already hands up with questions and complaints.

Kallus sat down on his desk, enjoying the fact he was tall enough to do so without his legs dangling. He crossed his arms and eyed the sea of hands. “All right, Antilles, you go first.”

Kallus’s eight p.m. Survey of Modern British Literature ran late, meaning he was the only professor in the lounge after the class ended.

For once, the lounge was quiet and he dared sit down on one of the worn couches and enjoy the tea he’d made. Holding the warm insulated cup, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of green rooibos and rose petals – his favorite evening tea. He kept the tea stashed in his bags just for moments like this.

All was peaceful until a horrible grinding sound started up. Kallus startled, almost spilling his tea, and looked around the room for the source of the noise.

Instead, his eyes fell on the history professor.

 _The_ history professor. 

Kallus chastised himself. There were at least four history professors at this university and Orrelios was merely one of them.

He was an odd one, Kallus had to admit. One of the few men around who was taller than Kallus and definitely the kind who worked out. He dressed casually, often in hoodies, Kallus had noted, making the man totally incongruous with Kallus’s mental image of what a professor should be.

He was also incredibly hot and, in a horrible blow to Kallus’s ego, had so far ignored Kallus completely.

“That’s just Chopper,” Orrelios said, grinning widely, white teeth contrasting with his darker skin, probably completely unaware how enticing his looks were to Kallus. “The Roomba.”

Kallus soon saw the orange and white robot, bumping the wall underneath the coffee table. “It sounds like you need a new one.”

“Eh,” said Orrelios. “New one wouldn’t have personality.”

“Personality?” Kallus asked, raising his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t think you’d want _personality_ in a vacuum.”

“He’s more than a vacuum, isn’t he? He’s practically tenured.” Orrelios lit up with that grin again, sending a shiver down Kallus’s back. “You’re not usually here this late.”

Kallus was surprised his schedule had been noticed by anyone, but especially Orrelios. “I’m not, you’re right. My class actually got into a good discussion and we ran over.”

“That’s good,” Orrelios said. “But they’re about to shut the building down for the night. We’d better get out of here before the lights go off.”

The look Orrelios gave him, full of mischief, almost made Kallus blush at the thought of being trapped in the dark with him.

Almost.

Kallus gathered his things and put on his coat. He glanced up to find Orrelios watching him. “Don’t you have a coat?” he asked.

“Nah. I run warm. Hoodie’s all I need around here.”

Shaking his head, Kallus grabbed his tea from the coffee table just before Chopper rammed into the legs and jostled the table. He followed Orrelios out, surprised when the man stopped at the elevator. “I had you figured for a stairs man,” he commented.

Orrelios laughed. “I get enough of that when I work out. I earn my right to be lazy the rest of the day.”

With a weak _ding_ , the elevator doors rattled open and Kallus gave serious thought to taking the stairs anyway. The floor dipped a little in the middle and the whole carriage shook as the doors opened.

Orrelios stepped in. “C’mon, Kallus. It’s sturdier than it looks.” He demonstrated this by jumping up and down. Shockingly, the elevator did not move.

Kallus was not comforted by Orrelios’s show, but he got in the elevator anyway.

The doors shut and Kallus was keenly aware of how small the elevator carriage was – and just how large Orrelios was. He turned, back against the wall, to face Orrelios and maximize the space between them.

Suddenly, the carriage shuddered to a halt. The doors opened three inches and stopped, just wide enough to reveal that they were stuck between floors.

“Ah, _karabast_ ,” muttered Orrelios, pressing the close door button repeatedly. 

Then, to make matters worse, the building lights all went out, leaving only an emergency lamp to illuminate the elevator.

“Hold on,” Orrelios said, moving to push the Call button instead. “Vizago’s probably still down in the maintenance room. He can get this started up again.”

Orrelios leaned on the button for a good five minutes, but there was no response. “Karabast,” he said again.

“Karabast?” Kallus asked, exasperated. “What does that even mean?”

“Right now it means you ain’t helping,” said Orrelios, sounding equally annoyed.

“The maintenance man is obviously not here,” Kallus pointed out. “We’ll have to call the fire department.”

“Ya think?” asked Orrelios. He dug in his sidebag and pulled out a beat-up looking phone.

Kallus listened as he talked to the 911 dispatcher, her voice just shrill and tinny enough that he could hear it, too. The moment she said it could take four hours to get to them – _“there are some major fires going on right now, dear”_ – Kallus slumped and slid down the back wall, resting his forehead on his knees in frustration.

“Four hours?” he asked, though he knew the answer. “It’s already ten o’clock. I don’t want to be here until two.”

Orrelios sat down next to him, close enough their shoulders touched. “Looks like we may not have a choice. Do you have an eight a.m. tomorrow?”

“No.” Kallus shook his head, trying to ignore the heat and pressure on his arm from Orrelios’s touch. “Not on Thursdays. I start at ten.”

“See?” said Orrelios mock-cheerfully. “Could be worse. You can still get five hours of sleep.”

“Oh, that is _wonderful_ ,” Kallus said bitterly.

“What? You’re young. You don’t need that much beauty sleep.”

Kallus turned his head to find Orrelios looking at him intently. “I’m thirty-four. I need my sleep, even if you don’t.”

Orrelios grinned, smaller this time. “I’m older ‘n you. I need it more. Most nights.”

A shiver ran down Kallus’s back. There was a certain tone to Orrelios’s voice that…

No, he wasn’t going there. Not with Orrelios. Not with anyone from Alliance.

He kept his mouth shut.

Orrelios thumped his head back against the wall with enough force that Kallus felt the vibrations.

“So what’s it like at ISU? Got decent coffee there?”

Kallus looked at Orrelios once more. The man was watching him again. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m just curious.” Orrelios fidgeted, hands twisting nervously around one another. “I mean, we all know you’ve got more money for your programs and I’d be lyin’ if I said we aren’t hoping you pull off your usual magic with the plays, but what’s it _like_? Do you enjoy it?”

As he spoke, his accent seemed to thicken, possibly from stress or maybe he was simply relaxing now that students weren’t around. Kallus couldn’t be sure. 

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me an’ some of the other third floor professors and TAs. We’re good buddies. Call ourselves the Spectres ‘cause Administration ignores our existence. Means we don’t get raises, but it also means we have a lot of freedom to do stuff our own way.” Orrelios shrugged. “Everythin’ I’ve heard about ISU makes it seem… well, _stuffy._ ”

Kallus scoffed reflexively. “Of course it’s not stuffy,” he said, but then he thought about it. Even though everyone here had been cold to _him_ , they were warm with each other in a way ISU professors simply weren’t. “All right, perhaps it’s a little stuffy.”

Orrelios laughed again, that deep laugh that reverberated in the elevator and Kallus’s chest. “Mate, you’re the stuffiest of them all. This is the most you’ve talked to anyone here besides your students.”

“I haven’t–” Kallus started, offended. “Orrelios, none of _you_ have tried to talk to _me_. If anyone’s cliquish around here, it’s you and your ‘Spectres’.”

Orrelios eyed him. “So if I introduced you to the group, you’d hang out with us?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Kallus forcefully, following it with a more timid, “probably.”

“‘Probably’,” muttered Orrelios, sounding amused. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t ya?”

Kallus felt compelled to defend himself against that humorous tone. “I don’t go around assuming people will want my company,” he argued. “And my entire time at Alliance so far, I’ve been ignored. I don’t count on that changing just because you _introduce_ me.”

“Nah, go ahead and count on it,” Orrelios said. “Unless you want to keep your reputation as the most stuck up guy on campus. I won’t make you be friendly, but it’s your choice, you know.”

Kallus didn’t have an argument for that.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rattling of the building’s heating system as it tried to keep up with the chill outside.

It wasn’t working, Kallus began to realize, at least not in this elevator that backed up to the outside. The temperature was dropping slowly and his coat wasn’t able to keep up; the fact that he was sitting still in what was basically a metal ice cube didn’t help.

There wasn’t exactly room for him to get up and move around, however, so he was stuck. Soon, he was shivering uncontrollably.

“Hey,” Orrelios said, sounding unnaturally gentle. “You okay?”

“I’m just cold,” Kallus said. “It’s nothing.”

“It ain’t nothing, not around here.” Orrelios shifted to face Kallus. He pinched the shoulder of Kallus’s black coat. “You gotta take the cold seriously. A coat like this won’t cut it.”

“It’s the best coat I have,” Kallus said. “It’s fine at ISU.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have the lake winds blowin’ through campus at ISU.” Orrelios seemed to take a minute to think. “Okay, here’s the deal. We get through this, you and I have lunch together tomorrow and I take you to get a proper Alliance coat that’ll actually work.”

Kallus quirked his eyebrows, though he knew his dubious expression was somewhat lessened by his shivering. “Lunch and shopping? Are you asking me on a date, Orrelios?”

The other man laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Zeb,” he said. “M’name’s Zeb. You should use that if you’re gonna be one of us. Stop this ‘Orrelios’ nonsense. I get enough of that from my students.”

Kallus had done research on his fellow Humanities professors and knew that much about him as well as the other ‘Spectres’. While they had seen fit to ignore him, Kallus, at least, had bothered to try and learn something beyond their positions. Orrelios’s first name was _Garazeb_ , actually, and what an odd name it was. It seemed to fit the odd man, however. “Alexsandr,” he said, a peace offering.

“Great. So yeah, Alex, how about that lunch tomorrow?”

 _Alex_ grated at Kallus’s nerves, but he had the feeling that complaining wouldn’t stop Orrelios – Zeb – from using the nickname. “Assuming we make it out of here without freezing, I’ll meet you for lunch.”

That beaming smile came back. “Great! You know the Noodle Pot, just off campus? Meet you there at, say, twelve thirty?”

Kallus nodded. It was probably unwise, but the idea of lunch with Zeb sounded nice.

A few moment later, he realized his eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and he was unable to fight off the urge to yawn. Wonderful, he was now cold and sleepy. Not a great combination.

“Hey,” said Zeb again, gently. “It’s getting’ late. It’s okay to be tired. It’s not okay to be cold. C’mere.” He held out his arms and spread his legs, indicating Kallus should scoot into his lap.

Eying him with suspicion, Kallus shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. I’m the best heater in this place and I’m offering. No one will know but us and the fire department. You’ll keep your reputation.”

Kallus wanted to argue, he really did, but the idea of warmth was so inviting, and if the idea of being held by Zeb caused extra warmth in certain parts… Well, it did no harm as long as he didn’t act on it.

Carefully, trying to keep things as dignified as possible, Kallus moved into Zeb’s lap.

Large, warm arms wrapped around him; large, warm legs pressed against his. It wasn’t perfect, but he was a lot more comfortable than he’d been before. Kallus sighed involuntarily.

Against his back, Zeb’s chest rumbled. “Toldja.” He spoke softly, right into Kallus’s ear.

If Kallus smiled, enjoying his temporary situation, at least Zeb would never know.

Kallus dashed into The Noodle Pot as quickly as possible. Though it wasn’t accumulating, snow flurried outside and he’d had enough of being cold for a while.

Zeb was already there, leaning against the counter, chatting with the cook, a bald man with a slightly off-kilter smile. Both turned to look at Kallus as he walked up to join them.

“Alex!” said Zeb cheerfully, as if he’d managed to get a full eight hours of sleep last night. “Want you to meet my buddy Gregor. Best cook this side of campus.”

“You mean in town.”

“I said what I meant.” Zeb’s teasing grin offset any offense in his words. “Gregor, this is Alex, the professor from ISU. He’s the guy gonna save our drama department.”

Kallus flushed a little. “I wouldn’t say I’m saving it. Your program was already decently robust when I got here.”

“And you’re keeping it from collapsing until we get our own person,” Zeb pointed out. “Anyhow, lunch is on me today since the elevator was my idea. I recommend the joopa stir fry.”

“‘Joopa’?”

Zeb shook his head. “Don’t know, don’t ask. Gregor wouldn’t tell, anyway, would you?”

Gregor laughed – _cackled_ , really. “Nope!” He tossed noodles and vegetables and some red meat Kallus desperately hoped was beef into a pan and fired up a burner. 

Kallus watched as their food was made, particularly the mysterious joopa, glancing up just in time to see that Zeb really had paid for both meals. “I didn’t mean for you to do that,” he said.

“I did.” Zeb brushed off any argument as Gregor handed over two steaming bowls of joopa stir fry. “Fork or chopsticks?” Zeb asked, leading the way to the drink stand.

“Chopsticks,” Kallus said, filling his cup with tea.

“Got ‘em.” Zeb filled his cup with soda and pointed to a small table in the corner of the room. “That’s my usual spot, if it’s okay with you.”

Kallus felt a little out of his depth already; being around Zeb during the day was just as heady as it had been at night. He’d hoped it would be otherwise, but he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying the experience of being in Zeb’s presence. “That sounds fine,” he said.

They sat and Zeb leaned forward over the table. “By the way,” he said, speaking conspiratorially, “it’s kangaroo.”

“What?” Kallus frowned.

“The ‘joopa’. Gregor doesn’t think people know, but it’s kangaroo. It’s why it tastes so different.” Zeb grinned. “I figured you’d like to know before you tried it.”

“You were correct,” Kallus said, a little relieved that the meat was something recognizable.

“So,” Zeb said, leaning back and poking at his food with his chopsticks. “I hear you’re doing Hamlet this semester?”

“We are,” Kallus confirmed. “I decided to go the comedic route this time and set it with ghost hunters. The traditional human roles are ghosts; the ghosts are human.”

“That sounds… interesting.” Kallus could tell Zeb was trying to be polite about it.

He smiled – an actual, real smile, to his own surprise. “It’s more interesting than it sounds. When done right, Shakespeare translates to any time period, any setting.”

“And you’re doing right by our kids?”

It took Kallus a second to realize what Zeb was asking, but he put his chopsticks down and glared in offense. “I would never apply less than my best efforts to any play,” he said coldly. “And I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I would _sabotage_ a program, even if we come from rival schools.”

Zeb held up his hands. “Sorry, mate. Just had to check. You know there are rumors.”

Kallus didn’t know about any rumors, actually. He huffed. “I’m not here to do anything but my best for the students. Having two quality drama programs in the state benefits both schools and the community at large.”

“I believe ya,” Zeb said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

Breathing slow, Kallus forced himself to relax the muscles that had tensed at Zeb’s accusation. “I’m particular about my reputation,” he said by way of explanation. “I don’t take well to allegations of dishonor.”

“I get that.”

“Yet you still said something.”

Zeb shrugged. “ _I’m_ particular about our kids and our school. I trust you’re not up to something sketchy; can you trust that I meant no harm?”

Kallus studied his face, finding it open and honest and, well, endearing. “I trust you,” he said.

“Good. Cause I’m taking you somewhere interesting after lunch.”

“Interesting?” Kallus frowned. “Should I worry?”

Zeb went back to grinning. “Only if you’ve got extra money in your wallet.” He took a bite of his stir fry. “Have you been to Ohnaka’s yet?”

“The off-campus bookstore?” Kallus asked. “No, I heard the place was dodgy.”

“It’s dodgy, all right. Mostly that’s the owner, Hondo. Avoid him and it’s like any other store.” Zeb bit his lip, then laughed. “You know that Jimmy Buffett song about being a pirate two hundred years too late? Yeah, that’s Hondo.”

Watching Zeb laugh was an experience; the man laughed with his whole body, shoulder-shaking belly laughs that made his green eyes glow. Then again, Kallus was learning that everything Zeb did was an experience.

One that he wanted to repeat.

An hour later, Kallus feared he was blushing from spending so much time with Zeb. The man’s attention was addictive and Kallus’s good sense went right out the window with him around.

Kallus had let himself be talked into an earthy orange and green jacket lined in cream – the AU school colors – knit on the outside, but lined with a soft shell that would keep out the wind.

Talked into, hah! “Brings out your eyes,” Zeb had commented and Kallus had been sold.

His behavior was worrisome. Kallus had emphatically meant to stay separate from the Alliance faculty, not fall prey to the charms of a well-built history professor. This was _not_ the plan, but it seemed that Zeb was making a habit of thoroughly wrecking Kallus’s plans.

At least the new jacket kept out the wind; _something_ worked as planned. It got him some strange looks from his students that afternoon. He supposed that was warranted, as most of his closet was black, white, and khaki, but surely it wasn’t _that_ surprising?

“Wow,” said Mattin, his lead actor for Hamlet, at that evening’s rehearsal. “You’re actually in our colors, Professor. Have you gone native?”

The other cast members all muttered agreement.

“Looking good, sir,” mentioned his aide, Ketsu, as she handed him the notes from last rehearsal.

Kallus looked at her, baffled. “It’s just a new jacket,” he said.

“It’s nice to see you support us a little,” Ketsu said, shrugging. “What can I say?”

“And I haven’t been supportive?” Kallus was genuinely confused, but he decided not to question it anymore. He slipped out of the jacket – it really was warm and comfortable, he had to admit – shaking it out and folding it before laying it on an auditorium chair. He carefully rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down, taking care to make sure each fold was equal.

As he finished the second sleeve, he realized his cast had fallen silent. He looked over to find them all watching him.

Kallus turned, hands on his hips. “You know you need to be setting up the props,” he fussed. “If we spend half our rehearsal time on preparations again, you will all be as dead as Yorick, I promise.”

As if a spell had been broken, the students jumped up and ran backstage, pulling out temporary costume embellishments and props.

A familiar laugh came from the back of the room.

Eyes wide, Kallus looked and yes, there sat Zeb Orrelios.

He wasn’t alone. Kallus recognized Professors Syndulla and Jarrus, along with Jarrus’s TA – Bridger? – and Wren.

Kallus definitely blushed then, grateful he was backlit by the stage lights. Zeb brought his friends to Kallus’s rehearsal? And found something Kallus said worth laughing at?

Biting the inside of his cheek hard, he let the pain drain his face of color before he walked up to see Zeb.

“I wasn’t expecting an audience,” he said as dryly as possible.

Beaming, Zeb hopped up and threw an arm around Kallus’s shoulders. “Toldja guys he wasn’t so bad.” He thumped Kallus on the chest and gestured to the others. “Alex, this is Hera, Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine. You know what they do around here?”

“Um. Yes, I’m familiar with everyone,” he said, a hand on his chest where Zeb had hit him. 

“Good! But did you know Sabine used to be in all of Chava’s plays as an undergrad? And Kanan’s a surprisingly good actor himself. You should see him at reenactments. He’s a great swordsman if you need choreography help.”

“You reenact?” Kallus tried to hide his surprise.

“We do,” said Jarrus, pleasantly – a nice change from his usual demeanor. “Zeb’s got all of us addicted.”

Kallus supposed he shouldn’t have been shocked the ebullient Zeb liked reenactments, nor that he would drag his friends along. Kallus’s own experiences with him ought to have told him that much.

“Hopefully you can appreciate what I’m doing with Hamlet,” he said to the group.

“Hopefully we can improve it!” said Ezra.

“Improve it?” Kallus looked to Zeb for an explanation.

Zeb scratched his head, a move Kallus had learned meant he was nervous. “Er, yeah. I got them to come by suggestin’ we help you out.”

“I– I don’t know what to say,” Kallus stammered.

“Professor Kallus!” yelled Ketsu from the front. “We’re ready!”

Zeb let his hand slide off of Kallus’s shoulder, giving him a pat in the middle of his back. “I promise to try to keep ‘em quiet,” he said.

Hera snorted, her green-tipped braids swaying as she shook her head. “Good luck with that one, Zeb.”

“It’s just rehearsal,” Ezra pointed out. “We’re not _really_ messing anything up if we heckle.”

Kallus bit his lip to keep from saying anything and left the Spectres to their own devices. When he made it to the front, he quietly told Ketsu, “Don’t be afraid to shush them if they get too loud.”

Ketsu grinned, glancing back. “Don’t worry, sir. I know Sabine quite well. I can make her listen.”

It sounded like there was a definite more-than-personal connection there, but Kallus wasn’t about to press. He wouldn’t ask any prying questions of his students or aides that he wouldn’t be willing to answer himself.

And right now, he was afraid he’d have to face questions about Zeb that he didn’t know the answers to just yet.

Somehow, even with comments from the back of the room making the cast laugh at inopportune times, they made it through rehearsal without major incident. At the very least, Kallus didn’t want to drop everyone in the lake with a concrete anchor.

Some days, that was the best he could hope for.

He gathered his things and made his way to the back of the auditorium. A few of his cast members were chatting with Zeb and Ezra while Hera, Kanan, and Sabine were in deep discussions. Upon his approach, however, the students scattered.

Kallus hung his jacket over a chair and stood in the aisle, unsure what to say. Should he ask them what they thought of it? If Kanan had any choreography suggestions? If Sabine had thoughts on backdrops?

He didn’t have to say anything, however. Hera leaned over. “Zeb, you said you had an idea. How can we make this play better?”

Kallus instinctively bristled at the insinuation his play needed improving, but he knew he could handle criticism under normal circumstances. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it from Zeb, however.

“Mud,” said Zeb, crossing his arms.

The Spectres groaned and Sabine threw a crumpled-up paper at Zeb’s head.

“I’m serious!” Zeb protested. “Shakespeare in the Mud at the Ren Faire is _great_! Even _I_ like it!”

“In the _mud_?” Kallus tried to wrap his head around that idea at all, much less transferring it to the stage.

Zeb glared at him. “Hey, you’re the one who said that it can be made enjoyable anywhere. I happen to like it there!”

“But… _mud_ ,” Kallus tried again. “There’s no way to do that on stage if I even wanted to.”

Zeb huffed. “Hera asked. I answered. I like my plays in the mud.”

Sabine shook her head. “Sorry, Professor Kallus, he’s always been a heathen.”

Kallus raised his eyebrows. “So I see.”

For some reason, the Spectres found his comment funny, laughing together while Kallus tried to figure out what had been humorous.

Kallus never did figure out why the Spectres thought he was funny, but after that first night, he was firmly one of their group whether he wanted to be or not. They dragged him to dinner parties at Kanan and Hera’s house, which seemed to be ground zero for the Spectres’ activities – Kallus wasn’t sure if they were married or not and he wasn’t about to ask – as well as drinks after class to celebrate successful gradings of large numbers of tests or papers.

For the first time since his own college days, Kallus had friends, not just colleagues and acquaintances.

All the Spectres, not just Zeb, warmed up to him. Ezra would wave as he hurtled down the hall, late for his classes or office hours. Kanan and Hera included him in lounge conversations and debates, often looking to Kallus to break a stalemate. Sabine shared some of her artwork with him and he learned to appreciate the use of symbolic colors a little more.

And then there was Zeb.

Zeb drove Kallus _crazy_. He was overly friendly, handsy to the point of being inappropriate, but all he had to do was smile and Kallus’s mental resolve melted, only to reform lower in his body.

Zeb made a point of eating lunch with Kallus every day and of attending as many rehearsals as he could manage, though he freely admitted he was not the play’s target audience. More than anything, it was Zeb’s influence that got Kallus to relax and accept his new social group.

More than anything, Kallus would do whatever it took to stay in Zeb’s company.

Finally, before Thanksgiving break, it was time to present the play. The Spectres stayed up all night with the play’s cast, making posters advertising the weekend run and hanging them around town.

The auditorium was packed every night. Kallus stood backstage dressed in all black, arms crossed, smiling at the students’ achievements. These Alliance students really got into the spirit of the adaptation, more so than his ISU students did.

And it showed in the box office. When they counted up ticket revenues Sunday night, Hamlet had made more money than any play Kallus had done before.

Ecstatic at the play’s success, feeling prouder of his work and his students than he ever had before, Kallus didn’t try to dodge when Zeb greeted him in the parking lot with a hug.

It might have been a mistake, but being in Zeb’s arms again just made the night more heavenly. Just like in the elevator, his arms were warm and large enough to wrap around Kallus completely, even in his large orange and green jacket.

Snow swirled around them as Zeb let go and took a step back. He adjusted the front of Kallus’s jacket. “Alliance colors look good on you,” he said, voice tense.

“You mentioned that when you talked me into buying it,” Kallus reminded him. If anyone else had tried to mess with his clothes, Kallus would have gotten angry, but not Zeb. He’d let Zeb do whatever he wanted.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Zeb scratched his head, a move Kallus had learned meant Zeb was nervous.

Kallus, still beaming, touched him on the arm. “What are you anxious about?” he asked. “Tonight’s a _good_ night. Let’s go get drinks or something. On me!”

Kallus turned to get in his car, but Zeb reached out and stopped him, lightly grabbing his bicep. “Alex…”

Zeb’s tone of voice and the feel of his hand pulled Kallus up short. “Are you okay, Zeb?”

“Alex, I–” Zeb scratched at his beard. “Aw, hells. No, I’m not okay.”

Suddenly fearful, Kallus started to reach out for Zeb again, but stopped partway. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

Zeb shook his head, looking conflicted. Kallus couldn’t imagine him looking more troubled if he were being drawn and quartered at one of his Ren Faires.

Kallus’s eyes widened, silently pleading with the man. “Zeb, tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

Zeb opened his mouth a time or two, but nothing came out at first. “I, uh, Alex. Look, I think it’s been pretty obvious I fancy you,” he said bluntly.

Kallus felt his jaw drop and he gaped upward at Zeb in shock. He had to be hearing something wrong; Zeb didn’t really feel that way, did he?

“I don’t even know if you _swing_ that way, but I had to say somethin’. You’re just so happy and beautiful tonight, I couldn’t–” Faint glimpses of shyness and – dare Kallus say it – fear scurried across Zeb’s face. He turned away from Kallus and scratched the back of his head again. “It’s been killing me, but I didn’t want to mess up what we had. I know I prob’ly just did, though, and–”

Kallus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He clapped a gloved hand over his mouth, stifling a joyous laugh. “Zeb, you utter fool, you trapped me in a public elevator and talked me into sleeping in your arms for several hours _all_ while asking me to go on a lunch date with you.”

Embarrassment visibly washed over Zeb, but he made reluctant eye contact with Kallus again.

Kallus quickly took off a glove, despite the snow, and reached up to run pale fingers through Zeb’s dark scraggly beard. Despite what he was sure was the biggest smile he’d worn since arriving at AU, Kallus still managed to sigh softly. “I fell for you that night. You had my heart right away, you big romantic. If I’d known that _you_ wanted…” Kallus trailed off with a shake of his head.

Deciding that there was altogether too much talking going on, Kallus grabbed the neck of Zeb’s hoodie – soft and purple tonight – and pulled him down into a not-so-shy kiss.

Zeb leaned into the kiss, large hands sliding around Kallus’s back, holding him tightly.

To Kallus’s delight, Zeb was a very good kisser. By the time they broke for air, Kallus felt thoroughly debauched already. “Gods, Zeb,” he breathed. “I’m not the sort of man to take someone home after the first kiss, but you make me wish I were.”

“We’re not doing that,” Zeb said, between light kisses peppering Kallus’s cheeks. “We’re going to go out on dates and act like decent human beings.”

“Act? Are we not decent otherwise?” Kallus asked, laughing.

“You are,” Zeb said, holding Kallus’s face in his hands and just looking at him. “What I’m thinking is not so decent.”

Kallus was quite keen to learn just what Zeb was thinking, but if he started down that path, they would very shortly end up naked in bed together. While that wasn’t the worst thought, Kallus wanted to savor this, to savor _Zeb_. He nuzzled his cheek into Zeb’s palm, relishing the rub of his facial hair on Zeb’s skin.

“Shall we start with decent tonight? My offer of drinks still stands,” Kallus said, reaching up with his bare hand to pull Zeb’s from his face and intertwine their fingers. He spoke softly, almost begging. “Go somewhere with me tonight. Don’t kiss me like that and run off without at _least_ a drink.”

Zeb smiled again, looking his usual confident self once more. “Yeah, let’s. Have I taken you to Rex’s?”

Kallus thought. “No, I don’t believe so. Is it a bar?”

“Yeah, one a little friendlier to guys like us. Dark and private without being seedy.” Zeb patted the roof of his car. “If you’re paying, I’m driving.”

“Fair enough,” Kallus said, stealing one more kiss before walking around to get in Zeb’s car. He was surprised by Zeb running around to open the door for him, catching him in yet another quick kiss.

Rex’s was near campus – if the weather weren’t so frigid and the sidewalks so treacherous with ice, they could have walked – and looked like any old run down campus town bar.

Inside was different, however. The place was cleaner and quieter than Kallus expected, with plenty of booths to go with the barstools.

Without letting go of Kallus’s hand, Zeb waved at the bartender, a man with a thick white beard.

A familiar guy. “Zeb… he looks like Gregor from the Noodle Pot,” Kallus whispered as they slid into a booth across from each other.

Zeb grinned. “Good eye. They’re brothers. Big family; you’ll see them all over town.” He looked at Kallus accusingly. “Or you would if you went out more.”

“I go out enough,” Kallus protested, but wilted under Zeb’s gaze. “Or I thought I did.”

“Professor Orrelios!” said an eager voice. A young man Kallus unfortunately recognized walked up to the table. “And Professor Kallus!”

“It’s just Zeb, Hobbie. You’re not in my class anymore,” Zeb said, apparently not at all embarrassed being served by a student.

Unlike Zeb, however, Kallus was mortified. It was bad enough a student was standing there, watching their date. The fact that it was Hobbie only made it worse.

Hobbie was a bright, kind young man, and a good student. But for most of the semester, Hobbie had spent Kallus’s classes harboring a rather large, painfully obvious crush. Kallus suspected it stemmed from his decision to let Hobbie and his friend Wedge turn in their essays a day late without penalty.

He was beginning to regret his generosity.

Hobbie’s eyes darted between them, widening a little. “Haven’t seen you in here before, sir,” he said to Kallus.

“First time,” Kallus said, stilted and stiff. “You work here?”

“Oh yeah. Since I turned twenty-one,” Hobbie said, fiddling with the tray he carried. “Rex is pretty great. Lets me talk to my friends when they come in.”

“Hobbie, why don’t you get me a Yavin Four Stout and Alex a Hoth IPA,” Zeb said, watching Kallus out of the corner of his eyes. “And put in one of those pizzas I like.”

Hobbie nodded and dashed off to talk to Rex.

“I shoulda warned you students work here,” Zeb said. “Sorry.”

“I– I should have assumed they would,” Kallus said. “Especially so close to campus.”

“Probably.” Zeb shot him an indulgent grin and laid a hand out on the table, palm up for Kallus to take.

Reminding himself that Hobbie – and any other students in the bar – had certainly seen worse than two grown men holding hands – he slipped his hand into Zeb’s. It was warm and comfortable and felt _right_ in a way very few things had since Kallus’s undergraduate years, before he turned to academia as a passion.

“So,” Zeb said, sounding mischievous. “I landed you on that first night, huh? And here I thought my flirtin’ was clumsy.”

“Perhaps I have a thing for clumsy,” Kallus posited, grinning back.

Zeb’s hand locked around his. “Alex, I hope you know I plan to find and exploit every single one of your ‘things’,” he said, deadly serious. “You should save some time and just tell them to me now so I can get on with the exploiting.”

“That’s quite a promise,” Kallus said. “It would be a shame if I didn’t get to watch you work for it, though.”

Zeb made a noise in the back of his throat that might have been a growl. “Jeez, Alex, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Kallus traced Zeb’s knuckles with his free hand. “Not anytime soon, I hope. You’ve still got to find out all my kinks.” He looked at Zeb through his eyelashes. “And there are a fair number of those.”

“Um.”

“Hobbie!” Jerking back, Kallus tried to sit up straight and pull his hand out of Zeb’s, but Zeb wasn’t letting go.

“Kid, you took levels in stealth, didn’t you?” Zeb said, laughing – though a little more awkwardly than before.

“Brought your drinks,” Hobbie said, sliding four glasses onto the table as if he hadn’t just interrupted a conversation on kinks. Kallus wondered just what Hobbie overheard working in the bar. “Rex said he sent extra so he doesn’t have to keep looking at you two.”

“Tell the old bastard we don’t want him looking anyway,” Zeb said, still with a smile on his face.

“Yes, sir,” Hobbie grinned. “And your pizza will be ready in ten minutes or so.”

“Please tell me you don’t eat anchovies or anything,” Kallus said as Hobbie left again.

“What? I always get anchovies, olives, and pineapple,” Zeb said, sounding hurt. He couldn’t hold a straight face for long, though, and laughed at his own joke. “Nah, it’s just pepperoni and sausage. Like the beer, it’s made locally. Worth the price.”

“Nice of you to put that on my tab,” Kallus teased.

Zeb grinned. “You really thought I’d let you pay for our first date when I’m the one who finally said something?”

“It was my idea to get drinks.”

“And I brought you to _my_ bar.”

“Fine,” Kallus said. “You can pay for your pizza; I’ll cover the drinks.”

“Sounds fair.” Zeb leaned forward again. “Now tell me more about your kinks.”

The next couple of weeks were blissful enough that Kallus barely registered the cold or the deep snow covering everything. 

It turned out all the Spectres had known Zeb liked Kallus. They hadn’t said anything to Kallus at first, which made him wonder if Zeb had kept quiet about their date, but when Zeb walked into the lounge the next morning, the good-natured teasing began.

“You’re really an Alliance Rebel now,” joked Ezra. “ISU won’t take you back.”

Kallus just smiled. Zeb was worth putting up with a little ribbing. The only problem he had was not being able to meet Hobbie’s eyes in class the rest of the semester.

About a week before finals, Zeb caught Kallus as he was getting out of his car. With a grin – and a complete lack of care for who was watching – Zeb pushed Kallus against the cold car door and began kissing him, starting at his collarbone and ending at his ear. Kallus squirmed as Zeb’s beard tickled him, clutching at Zeb’s hoodie. He thought he might have moaned a time or two, but he was too lost in the moment to really care.

At least until he heard a car door slam in the drive behind his car.

Zeb startled and pulled away. They both looked at the car and the blood drained from Kallus’s face.

“K– Kassius! What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked to see his ISU colleague this far north.

Kassius looked at Zeb with disgust and his expression didn’t change for Kallus either. “Pryce sent me with paperwork. Since you haven’t been by to check your box this semester.”

He held out a manila folder with a small stack of papers in it. Kallus took it, trying not to act embarrassed at being caught necking like a teenager. “Thank you,” he said. “Tell Pryce I’m sorry I haven’t been by. I’ve stayed quite busy up here.”

“I’m sure,” said Kassius distastefully. “I’d better be leaving. Be careful with yourself, Alexsandr.”

Free hand curling into a fist, Kallus watched as Kassius drove off. He carefully set the papers on the roof of his car and grabbed Zeb’s hoodie again, burying his face in his partner’s chest.

“Not good?” Zeb asked.

“Very not good,” Kallus confirmed. “That was Kassius Konstantine, a fellow ISU professor, as I’m sure you gathered. He was hired a month before me and has never let me forget it. And if you thought I was stuck up when I arrived, he’s ten times worse. He’s the _perfect_ Imperial and now he’s going to go back and tell our department head that I’ve adapted too well.”

Zeb wrapped strong arms around Kallus. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Remember, you’ve still got next semester here before you have to go back and deal with those idiots.”

“Please, don’t remind me,” Kallus said. “I’m dreading leaving you here.”

Zeb hummed a thoughtful little noise. “You could always apply for a permanent position here. Or I could try to transfer to ISU.”

Blinking in surprise, Kallus protested. “You _really_ don’t want to work at ISU, Zeb. They wouldn’t appreciate you there. Anyway, you’ve got tenure and you can’t give that up. You’re much better off as an ignored Spectre here at Alliance.”

“And what about you staying here, then?” Zeb prodded.

“I– I don’t know, Zeb. I’m almost tenured there. I’ve worked so hard for that; can I give it up?” Kallus shook his head. “I have things I desperately want at both schools. Which do I choose?”

Kallus expected Zeb to say, ‘Choose me,’ or something similar, but Zeb just held him tighter.

“C’mon,” Zeb said after a few minutes, sounding depressed – a tone Kallus had never heard from him. “We’ve got class. We’d better go.”

They held hands as they walked through the Grove, but a palpable heaviness lay between them now.

Kallus knew it was his fault. If he’d been able to definitely say one way or another, then Zeb would know what to expect. Instead, Zeb got a partner who was waffling. He deserved better.

He would _get_ better. Kallus was determined to make a decision soon.

“I got a call from ISU today,” Kallus said, speaking to all the Spectres gathered in the lounge. “I’ve been summoned to a meeting with Pryce, my department head. I don’t think it’s going to go well.”

“That’s rough,” said Kanan, leaning forward on the couch. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, my ‘extreme lack of decorum’ was mentioned as a topic,” Kallus said wryly. “At Imperial State, they take that quite seriously.”

“That’s bull,” said Sabine, relaxing on the couch next to Kanan. “They can’t do anything to you just because you made out with Zeb in a parking lot.”

“I’m sure they can find a reason to deny my tenure without opening themselves up to a discrimination suit,” Kallus replied.

Standing behind him, Zeb squeezed Kallus’s shoulders reassuringly. Almost on autopilot, Kallus picked up one of Zeb’s hands, holding it against his cheek.

“When do you go?” Zeb asked.

“Tomorrow, just after lunch. With the two hour drive, I’ll have to cancel all of my classes.”

“You can borrow Ezra to monitor your classes, if you don’t want to cancel,” Kanan offered.

“Hey!” said Ezra. “I don’t know anything about English. I barely know anything about philosophy.”

Kallus smiled sadly. “Thank you Kanan, Ezra, but I’ll cancel. It’s simpler that way.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Zeb, voice low and serious. “Sabine, can you cover mine? I’ve only got the three and they’re taking tests.”

Sabine nodded. “Just like old times.”

“No, Zeb, you shouldn’t take time off because of me,” Kallus protested, looking up into Zeb’s face.

Zeb shook his head. “Sorry, but you’ll just have to put up with it. I’m not letting you stew for four hours in a car _and_ deal with a disciplinary meeting all by yourself.”

“Zeb…” Kallus started, but found he didn’t have the words to finish.

“You’re stuck with me, good or bad, Alex. Shoulda told you that was part of the deal before you kissed me.”

“You probably should have,” Kallus agreed, although he wondered if such a declaration would have only sent him running into Zeb’s arms even faster.

That was how, the next day, Kallus found himself pulling into the ISU campus with Zeb in the passenger seat.

Zeb gave a low whistle, looking at the gray stone buildings. “I’ve never been here before. It’s fancier than I was expecting. Shoulda worn my dress hoodie.”

Kallus snorted laughing, partially at Zeb’s joke – the man was in a green and yellow hoodie today – but mostly out of nerves.

The Alexsandr Kallus who last visited this campus would never have laughed so hard he snorted. He would never have given someone dressed like Zeb the time of day. He had been careful to be cordial with all his colleagues, but never too friendly. He had stuck to a bland, upscale wardrobe so as to present the image ISU wanted.

He’d dressed like an ISU professor again, black pants and blazer over a white button-down, and had even slicked his hair back like he used to; that part had been difficult since he’d let it grow out over the last semester. 

It felt like putting on a costume. He was no longer that man and Kallus was grateful. Life had gotten much better since he embraced the more relaxed lifestyle of Alliance.

But here he was, back at his home institution, the place that had given him everything he needed to establish his career. The place he thought he’d never leave.

Kallus felt like a stranger as he pulled into the Humanities parking lot.

“Ooh, fancy,” Zeb noted. “You’ve got a whole building to yourself.”

“You do realize _most_ colleges have that?” Kallus asked, allowing himself a small grin.

“Oh yeah,” Zeb said. “But that’s not nearly as much fun.”

Kallus leaned over for a kiss while they were still in the car. Zeb kissed him, then pressed their cheeks together as he whispered reassurances in Kallus’s ear.

For his part, Kallus listened and tried to take Zeb’s words to heart: this wasn’t that big a deal, the school couldn’t really do too much to him, and if worse came to worst, he always had a place with Zeb to fall back on.

It was hard, though. In a few minutes, everything Kallus had worked for in the last ten years could come crashing down on him. Not even Zeb’s incessant optimism had been able to convince Kallus otherwise.

“I’m gonna wander around campus,” Zeb proclaimed. “Just call me when you get out.”

Kallus nodded. “Sounds good.”

Zeb kissed his forehead lightly. “Go get ‘em, Rebel,” he said encouragingly.

Kallus tried to smile in return, but the words twisted like fire in his gut.

Walking into the Humanities Building felt like stepping into the past. Students and faculty passed him in the halls without meeting his eyes. Nobody stood out, nobody called attention to themselves.

Just like good little Imperials.

Kallus wormed his way through the crowd, to the office of Arihnda Pryce, his department head and direct supervisor. The department secretary, a flighty woman named Tua, motioned for him to sit.

Pryce kept him waiting for nearly fifteen minutes past their appointment time. It was one of her intimidation tactics, he knew, meant to make him stressed and off-guard. 

Unfortunately, it worked. His leg was bouncing nervously by the time Tua sent him back.

“Alexsandr,” Pryce said, greeting him without rising or offering a hand to shake. She leaned forward on the desk, arms crossed. “I heard from Konstantine that you’re enjoying your time at Alliance University.”

No sense in denying what was obvious. “I seem to fit in well down there, yes,” Kallus said. “It’s made the semester bearable.”

“I also hear your play was successful.”

“Yes, ma’am. Box office receipts were higher than I’ve ever earned before.”

Pryce leaned forward just a bit. “Is Alliance getting more from you than ISU has? Where is your heart, Alexsandr?”

Kallus froze. Was she bringing up Zeb? He decided to ignore that question. “Arihnda, it’s a matter of pride that I apply the best of myself to any situation. Why should I give Alliance less than that because I’m only there for a year? Doesn’t my success there also reflect positively on Imperial State?”

“Perhaps a little, but your salary is still being paid by Imperial State. You would do well to remember that.”

“I’m sorry?” Kallus frowned, unsure what Pryce was driving at.

“ISU allowed you to take this little _sabbatical_ to Alliance, but with the understanding that you would represent us well. Since then, you have created a better drama program for them than you ever have for us, you’ve grown sloppy in appearance, and now I hear you’re making out with another professor – a _male_ professor, at that – in the parking lot where students can see you. You’re hardly behaving as an ISU professor should.”

Kallus clenched his jaw. “Arihnda, who I date is no business of the university’s.”

“As long as it’s kept private and discreet, you’re correct. But you haven’t been discreet in any manner since you left for Alliance.” Pryce shuffled some papers on her desk. “Alexsandr, you have to understand that Dean Tarkin is ready to let you go. You’re untenured, so you don’t have a guaranteed position here.”

Kallus’s mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He wanted to argue for his position, but that would only be more proof he’d lost the respectability to keep his job.

Did he really want to keep this job, though? Did he want to work for a woman who would make snide remarks about his partner? Did he want to come back to cold, prim, and proper Imperial State?

No. He didn’t.

Kallus stood quickly, towering over Pryce at her desk. “Arihnda, I believe Dean Tarkin and I are in agreement. I’m no longer a fit employee for Imperial State.”

She didn’t seem surprised. “If you come back for spring semester, Alexsandr,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken, “I believe we can come to an agreement.”

“And break my contract with Alliance University?” Kallus laughed bitterly. “I’d rather die than come back to ISU for one more day. Consider this my resignation.”

“What will you do without your salary?” Pryce asked, standing as well. “Rely on your boyfriend’s Alliance pittance? Be reasonable, Alexsandr. Come back to Imperial State.”

“I said I quit, Arihnda.” Kallus wished he had a nametag or a stack of paperwork or something to slam on Pryce’s desk for emphasis. All he had was the ability to walk out, however, so he did just that.

Kallus stormed past Tua, stormed through the halls – now empty as it wasn’t class break anymore – and out to the parking lot. He started to fumble in his pocket for his cell phone, but found he didn’t need to call Zeb; Zeb was leaning against the hood of his car, waiting.

As soon as Kallus came close enough Zeb could make out his expression, the man pushed off the car hood, one hand reaching out to Kallus. “Alex, are you okay? What happened?”

Kallus was no longer an ISU employee. No longer a professor, contractually obligated to certain levels of decorum. He walked straight into Zeb’s arms, imagining Pryce watching him from her office windows and having an apoplectic fit.

“I quit,” Kallus said simply.

“You did what now?” Zeb pushed him back far enough they could see each other’s faces. “Alex, you love your job here. Your tenure.”

“I used to,” Kallus said. “I used to belong here. I don’t anymore. I belong with you.”

A piece of hair had fallen loose from Kallus’s attempt to look Imperial again. Zeb brushed it out of his eyes gently. “We’ll get you a position at Alliance, no matter what sort of hell I need to raise.” Lifting Kallus’s chin, Zeb kissed him solidly. “Are you sure about your decision?”

Kallus had never been more sure of anything in his life. He stared into Zeb’s beautiful eyes. “I don’t know why I even questioned it. I love you, Garazeb Orrelios. I can’t live without you. I need you in my life, every day.”

Zeb pulled him close again and Kallus leaned his head on Zeb’s shoulder. There wasn’t anywhere in the world he’d rather be.

“I love you, too, Alex. More than anything in my life.” Zeb sighed sadly. “But you shouldn’t base your career decisions on me. If you would do better here, then you should come back here.”

“I’m not wanted here anymore,” Kallus pointed out. “And I don’t _want_ to be here. I want to be at Alliance with you. With the Spectres. I want to be a Rebel from here on out.”

Zeb chuckled. “Alex, you’ve always been an Alliance Rebel at heart. You just didn’t know it.”

The entire drive back to Alliance was something of a blur to Kallus in later days. He’d been in shock, from his sudden confession of love as well as his sudden resignation.

It was doomed to hit him at some point, however, and it hit that night, in his apartment as he curled on the couch with Zeb. They were watching some movie together, but Kallus had quit paying attention half an hour before.

“Oh gods,” he whispered. “I really did that.” Kallus sat up, tugging on his hair out of stress.

“Alex?” Zeb asked, sitting up as well, one hand on Kallus’s back. “You okay?”

Kallus looked at his partner, horrified. “I quit. I don’t have a job anymore. I don’t have a salary. I don’t have any way to afford to stay here and teach.”

“Breathe,” Zeb instructed. He gently unwound Kallus’s fingers from his hair, letting Kallus grip his fingers instead. “You’ve got some savings, don’t you? You told me that before.”

Right. Savings. He had some. “Three months,” Kallus said, voice breaking as he spoke. “I can afford to go three months. Zeb, that won’t get me to the end of next semester. What am I going to do? I’m going to get evicted. I’m going to have to live out of my car. What am I going to do?”

Zeb held Kallus’s hands tightly, rubbing his thumbs over the backs. “First, you need to calm down. Tomorrow, you and I are going to go talk to Dean Sato. We’re going to see about your temporary position being made permanent. With your reputation and what you brought into the department with your play this semester, I bet he’ll be happy to have you.”

Kallus gulped for breath, slowly bringing his lungs back under conscious control. His heart was still racing, however, as was his mind. “But _money_ , Zeb.”

“You’ll be hired on for next semester. It’s December. You’ve got one month to live off of savings.” Zeb bent to catch his eyes. “And even if you didn’t have the savings for it, I wouldn’t let you go without, okay? You’ve always, _always_ got a place with me.”

Desperately, Kallus stared back into Zeb’s eyes. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust that it would be as simple as walking into Dean Sato’s office and asking for a job.

Things were never that simple, however. He’d had to work hard to get his job at Imperial State. He’d had to work hard for his plays to gain traction. He’d had to practically beg to get permission to teach at Alliance for a year. And even here at Alliance, it hadn’t been easy.

At least not until he met Zeb.

Kallus closed his eyes. Zeb had made his world so much better. He’d brought laughter into Kallus’s life. He’d brought him friends. He’d brought out parts of Kallus’s personality even Kallus hadn’t known about. He’d never, _ever_ let Kallus down.

If Kallus could trust Zeb with his heart, surely he could trust the man with his career.

A sort of calm settled over Kallus. His heart still beat rapidly, and his brain still tried to scream worries at him, but Zeb’s presence was like a big warm blanket over all that. The screams were muffled, the frantic heartbeat slowing.

“All right,” Kallus said quietly. “I talk to Sato tomorrow. Will you be there with me?” He looked pleadingly at Zeb.

Zeb pulled a hand free and used it to cup Kallus’s cheek. “I’ll be there,” he confirmed. “I’ll always be there.”

Zeb kept his word. The next morning, before their ten a.m. classes began, he sat with Kallus in Dean Jun Sato’s waiting room, one hand resting on Kallus’s knee, preventing him from anxiously jiggling his leg. 

Sato himself came out to call Kallus back into his office. He quirked an eyebrow at the sight of Zeb, but said nothing. His face was set in a small smile, Kallus’s only clue to his thoughts.

Kallus took a seat in front of Sato’s desk and waited for Sato to speak. He prayed that the Dean would be receptive to his plea.

“I understand you wanted to talk to me about the open Drama Coordinator position?” Sato said. His voice betrayed no hints of Kallus’s fate.

“Yes, sir.” Kallus sat up even straighter. “I would like to put in an application for the permanent position. I believe my performance this semester demonstrates that I would be an asset to Alliance University at large and your Humanities Department in particular.”

Sato nodded. “Your work with Hamlet was certainly impressive, though I may be biased. Did you know your lead, Mart Mattin, is my nephew?”

Kallus shook his head slightly. “No, I was not aware of that. I chose him for the role based on talent alone,” he said, in case Sato thought he’d tried to ingratiate himself that way.

“I assumed as much. Mart is a handful, but he performs well under pressure.” Sato actually smiled then. “And you certainly put him under pressure.”

Nodding, Kallus hoped the smile was genuine. “Yes, sir. I asked for the best from your students and I received it.”

“And your job at Imperial State? I understand you’re up for tenure. Why would you want to leave your position there?”

Kallus took a moment. This part was tricky. “Imperial State isn’t a consideration, sir. I’ve already resigned my position there.”

“Oh? Why?”

“There was a difference of opinion between myself and my department about what constituted a good employee,” Kallus said. “For example, they were disappointed I hadn’t tried to sabotage your drama program and expected me to break my contract to return to ISU for spring semester, not next fall.”

“You don’t need to exaggerate, Professor,” Sato said, but he didn’t sound certain.

“I’m not,” Kallus said simply. “I can’t work for an institution that would ask such underhanded things of me.”

Sato leaned forward. “And what if you don’t get the position, Professor? What will you do then?”

“I’ll finish out my year here, as contracted, unless you have some reason to ask me to leave early.” Kallus took a deep breath. “After that, I’m not sure. This is recent enough I haven’t yet developed a contingency plan. Give me a few days, however, and I’m sure I’ll have an idea.”

“I’ll talk to the search committee,” Sato said. “Our hope was to announce the new candidate at the start of spring semester.”

Kallus nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you for your time and your consideration.”

Kallus had his hand on the office doorknob when Sato spoke again. “If it helps, Professor, you were already under consideration. Our only worry was if we’d be able to match your ISU salary.”

Shocked, Kallus looked back. At ISU, he’d never have heard a reassurance like that. “That’s– That’s not necessary, sir, though I appreciate the concern. Thank you for telling me.”

Back in the reception area, Zeb waited for Kallus. He looked at Kallus questioningly, giving a hopeful surreptitious thumbs-up.

Kallus returned the gesture with a waggle of his hand. He didn’t want to be too optimistic.

Zeb disagreed. He asked about the meeting as they headed back to their cars. As soon as he heard that Kallus had already been on the short list for a permanent position, he swept Kallus up, right there in the middle of the Grove.

Kallus kissed Zeb back, wrapping his arms around his partner too, even though he was wary of public displays of affection after Konstantine’s nosiness. “I don’t have the job yet,” he warned.

“I think you do,” Zeb said. “They just hafta wait to announce it.”

Smiling again, feeling almost no stress for the first time in a week, Kallus cupped Zeb’s face in his hands. “Thank you for being here for me. I know that whomever the committee picks, I’ll still have you and _that_ is what matters most.” He reached up the short distance to kiss Zeb again, tenderly this time.

“Fuck, Alex, I love you,” muttered Zeb against his lips. “I can’t believe I get to keep you.”

“I don’t believe you’re going to be able to get rid of me,” Kallus whispered back. “If I don’t get the job, I’ll bartend at Rex’s with the students or something. Anything to stay here, where I belong. With you.”

Christmas vacation passed quietly, snow piling high on the empty campus. Kallus and Zeb visited their respective families, but were back together for New Year’s Eve.

It was the first New Year’s kiss Kallus had ever had.

If the kiss was any indication for how the next year would go, then he had an _amazing_ year to look forward to.

Spring semester began and Kallus found himself back in the lounge with the Spectres. He sat, unashamedly, in Zeb’s lap, the lack of a confirmed job helping him to be more open with public affection.

The Spectres didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the sentiment seemed to rub off on Kanan and Hera, who walked in holding hands as well.

About ten minutes before class began, Ezra ran in with a large envelope. “Kallus! The Dean’s office just sent this over! I grabbed it from the courier as I came in.”

Kallus and Zeb straightened and Kallus held a hand out for the envelope.

It was legal document-sized. 

Surely that was a good sign.

“Well?” asked Zeb. “Open it!”

Carefully, squashing the urge to rip the envelope open, Kallus undid the clasp and slid out a small packet of paperwork. He flipped through it, scanning each page.

“So?” asked Sabine, leaning over the couch.

“It’s a job offer,” Kallus said slowly, needing a moment for it to sink into his brain. “A full time faculty position and Drama Coordinator.”

Zeb let out a loud _whoop_ that made Kallus flinch in surprise. Laughing, Zeb placed a hand on Kallus’s back. “I told you,” he said. “I _told_ you!”

“You did,” Kallus agreed, still in shock. He whispered, just so Zeb could hear it. “I get to stay here with you.”

Zeb grabbed him and kissed him solidly.

Kallus broke out into a huge smile. “This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you,” he said to the room at large. “For any of you. If you hadn’t let me in…”

“Nah,” said Hera. “With Zeb here moping around about the hot new British Lit professor, _one_ of us would have said something sooner or later, just to save our collective sanity.”

Kallus laughed. He carefully slid the job offer back into its envelope. “I’ll sign everything over lunch,” he said. “Get it back to the committee this afternoon.”

Kanan looked at his watch. “Good idea. It’s about time for first classes.” He stood and gave a mock salute. “Good luck, everyone. Try not to murder or maim any students this semester.”

“I was moping a little, too,” Kallus admitted to Zeb before they left the lounge. “See, there was this singularly attractive history professor that was ignoring me and I almost couldn’t stand it.”

Zeb grinned. “Good thing he never made a move. I would’ve hated to have to kill one of my colleagues.”

Laughing again, Kallus grabbed Zeb’s hand. “I love you, Zeb Orrelios,” he said. “I wanted you to start the semester knowing that.”

“Alexsandr Kallus,” Zeb said, voice even lower and more gravelly than usual. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Always have to outdo me, don’t you?” Kallus asked. “Now go on. Get to your classes. Can’t have the teacher be late.”

Zeb’s grin widened. “You obviously haven’t been to many of my classes.”

Practically beaming, Kallus made his way down the hall to his classroom. The student’s chatter didn’t stop when he entered – he knew that would soon change, however.

Kallus carefully undid his Alliance-colored jacket and hung it on the desk chair. Slowly, meticulously, he pulled out syllabi and information packets from his briefcase.

And… there. The room fell quiet.

Kallus walked to the front of the desk, leaning back against it. He spoke just loud enough to be heard in the back of the room, solemn and serious. 

“I am Professor Kallus and this is Shakespearean Literature, English 468. If you’re here because you watched a Baz Luhrmann movie in high school or read a sonnet in your Intro to British Lit class and you think you’ll be able to breeze through this course, you’re quite wrong. I suggest you listen carefully from here on out.”

Eyes widened. Good, he had them.

This was going to be a good semester and a _very_ good start to the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 20, one of the ones addressed to a male subject.
> 
> The Jimmy Buffet song mentioned is “A Pirate Looks at Forty”.
> 
> Shakespeare in the Mud is a real thing at the Ohio Renaissance Festival. I highly recommend their version of Beowulf!
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beta, whiplashcrash, who held my hand and helped me tweak dialogue and descriptions. This story is much better thanks to her influence.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! [hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) is my main blog, and [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/) is my _Star Wars_ blog. New friends always welcome!


End file.
